


there's others that deserve you but my darling, i am still in love with you

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, Wedding, lovers to strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: It wasn’t a crush.It wasn’t that at all. After years of meticulously scrutinizing his emotions towards Shane, he found Shane lived on a plane all on his own. Shane was alone in the respect that Ryan didn’t regard anyone the way he did Shane. Ryan had, of course, had best friends before him, but there was a difference to Shane. Something that allowed Ryan to confide, to seek, to decide, like he had when he first met Shane, that there was a space in his life that only Shane fit into.To say they’re puzzle pieces is cliche and overused. Much more than that, they were links in a chain, stronger when they were connected.or; mistakes were made, and some mistakes just can't be fixed.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59
Collections: Shyan Valentine's Exchange 2020





	there's others that deserve you but my darling, i am still in love with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isultoktok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isultoktok/gifts).



> oh gosh. happy valentine's day! i present to you, a labor of love for the shyan writing events valentine's exchange. i'm sorry it hurts. please enjoy though. i hope you like it @isultoktok! 
> 
> title is from ed sheeran's 'happier'. 
> 
> have at it, kiddos.

Quite fittingly, this Saturday afternoon in February is brightly lit with sunshine. Sitting on the balcony, Ryan drinks coffee from his mug and enjoys it, the caress of the warm breeze on his skin. Los Angeles is bustling; of course it is. There isn’t a city Ryan loves more than this one. If he could lay his life on a map, California would bear the most travel pins. 

Pins of memories of all the people that have walked into his life. There are so many places stained with smiles and laughter, some with tears and heartache. These memories are like initials carved into the bark of a tree trunk standing strong in the middle of a forest. These memories are like scraped knees and scarred shins, skinned elbows and papercuts. These memories, too, are like adrenaline fueled heartbeats, jokes scratched into the wood of a desk, scribbled in pen in the back of a notebook. They’re wisps of momentary delight, fleeting, fading and new memories come and take place.

After he tosses back the last of his coffee, he heads back inside. He has a wedding to get ready for after all. 

~

The first time Ryan met Shane, they clicked; it was an easy friendship to fall into. Most BuzzFeed friendships were. There weren’t very many people Ryan didn’t get on with over the course of his time with the company, but Shane, with his odd antics, wild anecdotes, and warm brown eyes made it easy for Ryan to decide that Shane was a person he wanted in his life. Like everything in Ryan’s life, when he wanted something he made it happen. 

It took effort; Shane didn’t show or express emotion the way most people did, and most of the time Ryan second-guessed himself, falling into pits of anxiety as he wondered if Shane liked him at all. 

There were reassurances in Shane’s actions, though; a strong hand on his shoulder, however fleeting. Those crinkles by his eyes when he laughed, eyes shaped like crescent moons and lit just as bright. The silliness of nicknames. 

It turned into more after a while. Ryan didn’t care much for touch—that’s what he had significant others for. There was no need to reach or hold or linger. 

Time seemed to soften that, though. After a long while of analysis, Ryan found that Shane was a man of action rather than words. Ryan found friendly affection through favors and movement. A stabilizing reach of his hand underneath Ryan’s elbow, like Ryan might topple over, but Shane wouldn’t allow it. The touch of Shane’s long, capable fingers over his shoulders, at the back of his neck, on the side of his waist. He realized that he enjoyed Shane being close. 

While that had turmoil and long nights of anxiety induced panic attacks, Ryan found peace within it, somewhere between pushing and pulling, existing within Shane’s orbit, to stand and allow himself the intimacy of friendship that didn’t move beyond a bond between two friends. 

It wasn’t a crush. 

It wasn’t that at all. After years of meticulously scrutinizing his emotions towards Shane, he found Shane lived on a plane all on his own. Shane was alone in the respect that Ryan didn’t regard anyone the way he did Shane. Ryan had, of course, had best friends before Shane, but there was a difference to him. Something that allowed Ryan to confide, to seek, to decide, like he had when he first met Shane, that there was a space in his life that only Shane fit into. 

To say they’re puzzle pieces is cliché and overused. Much more than that, they were links in a chain, stronger when they were connected. 

~

The tux Ryan wears is black. It’s fitted and tailored just for him. As he stares at his reflection, he can see he’s nervous. Is that what happens? It’s the rest of forever, in a few moments, and it’s a wild idea, that one moment could change the rest of his life. 

Because that’s what happens when two people fall in love, isn’t it? A scribble of signatures on paper, crying through prepared speeches of promises they’ll inevitably break, only to forge newer, stronger promises because they’ll change in five, ten, fifty years, but that love—it’ll always be there, won’t it?

Sighing, Ryan tries to flush the nerves from his system as he steels himself. 

It’s one moment he has to get through, and then the rest of forever begins. 

~

Starting a company with Shane, and, subsequently Steven was easy. Well, the decision to do so was easy. After they’d laid everything out, it was a clear decision to make. 

The idea had been just that. An idea. A spark of a thought. And because Ryan couldn’t imagine a life where he sat for hours spilling creativity from his brain into the screen of his computer without Shane, the spark of an idea had turned into a proposal.

They were so high up over the entire city of Santa Monica, looking out over the crashing waves of the Pacific, over the pin-point sized people milling about the city as the sun set, reflecting hues of baby girl pink and fruity, tangy orange. There was Shane, sitting right at his side, always on his right. Ryan couldn’t remember what Shane had been saying, for the life of him honestly, but there was a moment, a hundred and thirty feet into the sky sitting amongst the clouds, there was clarity. Ryan turned to face Shane, and Shane, like he realized Ryan hadn’t been listening at all, just stopped talking. 

If there was ever a memory Ryan wanted to keep forever, it was Shane at the top of the ferris wheel. It was him sitting next to Shane at the top of the ferris wheel. It was Shane, backlit by the glow of an exhausted sun, cheeks flushed from the bolstering summer heat and the beers they’d had below. God, and his eyes, glassy and warm, clear like the rings of coffee on his desk when he spills his overflowed mug. Shane’s eyes just looking back at Ryan. 

There was clarity and realization in that, too, but that would come later. Right then, there was only suspension, a timeless moment they borrowed where they looked at each other and Ryan had said, “You’re my best friend.” 

With a smile Ryan couldn’t say he’d seen before, Shane said, “I know.” 

The ferris wheel began to move and Shane’s laughter carried them to the bottom. Ryan felt weightless, like a paper airplane drifting through the air. 

There’d never been a moment where Ryan had specifically, particularly, curiously and wholly wanted to hold Shane’s hand, but right then, he had. So he did. 

It was startling how easy, how seamless their palms pressed together, how fingers and thumbs clasped.

Thunder roared but when Ryan looked to the sky, only stars twinkled back at him; it had taken much too long for Ryan to realize that it was the beat of his own heart he was hearing.

They held hands until they reached the bottom, like they descended back into the land of the living, like someone had flipped a switch and time began to pass normally again. 

That memory; Ryan could lose the rest of them, but to lose that one? 

Well, Ryan knew he couldn’t live a life where he’d never come to know that Shane could look at him like that. 

It began with Ryan saying, “We should do it.” 

And Shane agreeing, “We should.” 

And then of course, getting Steven on the phone. (“Yeah, we definitely should.”)

And so they did. 

~

Even easier than all of that, had been letting Shane lead him down the hallway as deft fingers undid shirt buttons. Letting Shane lead him through the doorway of his bedroom as fingertips skated over his burning flesh. 

Ryan wished Shane had tasted like alcohol, but he hadn’t. Just green tea and popcorn. It had been the most sober they’d been while making such a wild decision. 

As Shane pressed him into the bedsheets of his mattress and Ryan’s fingers grappled for purchase along the sweaty planes of Shane’s back, Ryan had known the whole world had been tipped on its head. Ryan could hear the change in the breathless way he called Shane’s name. Could feel the change in the scorching heat of Shane’s mouth on his pulse. Could see it in Shane’s eyes when he looked down at Ryan with those darkened amber irises.

And Ryan wanted it so badly, badly enough that he tucked all the doubt and fear away in a dark corner of his chest and leaned into the possibility of destruction. 

The next morning, they were different in that they touched more, they touched better. They said more, and much, much less. They didn’t outwardly talk about what had happened, even lying naked against each other as grey light filtered through cracks in the curtains while Los Angeles greedily soaked up the rainfall. 

It was the easiest transition. 

Ryan, though, never thought it would truly change things around him. 

~

The church is bustling with people. Of course it is, Shane has always been a popular man, and his engagement announcement to a sarcastic, inventive and innovative baker with a soaring baking channel on Youtube had been quite the talk amongst internet creators. Ryan has sat through hours of her videos, and he likes her for Shane.

The only problem is Ryan likes himself better. 

Which is why he’s standing on the steps of this Catholic church, looking up at the sky like it’ll open and pour down the strength and bravery he needs to walk inside and find Shane. To continue coveting on the steps of the church fills him with shame, but he was full of them, saddled with want and regret, wishing he’d made better decisions in the face of fear.

~

There were so many long nights. Long nights with stars struggling to shine through the hazy light glowing from the streetlamps outside of Ryan’s bedroom window. Long nights of Shane’s voice, recounting, expressing, telling, laughing, joking. So many long nights where they’d stayed up talking and whispering into the air, sometimes into each other’s flesh. 

There were days, too. Long days where the sun gleamed golden, glimmering over window panes, causing heat to ripple over black tar city streets. Days that began with Shane’s messy hair and lazy smile, with the sleep warm touch of his palm over Ryan’s shoulder. Tired amber eyes shining as Shane coaxed him into staying underneath the warmth of shared blankets for just five more minutes. 

There were many afternoons, where the sun hung tired, casting a warm orange glow Ryan could recognize was made for lovers. He hadn’t known it then, looking over in the passenger seat as he drove down busy streets, the faded tangerine light catching the long locks of Shane’s hair, filtering through his irises, coercing Ryan to notice the way Shane’s mouth tasted words as he spoke. 

In the middle of Target, outside a taco truck licking away the taste of beer, on the steps of Shane’s front porch; this explosive feeling welled up in Ryan’s chest, and Ryan hadn’t known what to call in then.

~

There is a moment where Ryan almost leaves. He nearly allows himself to live with the _Almost_ of it all. Anxiety bubbles up. It’s been years. Three of them since he’d talked to Shane last. Shame settled in the deepest part of his core. He should’ve called, sent a message, a smoke signal, and yet, he can’t make himself turn around and walk out of the church and just continue collecting days where all he had left were fading memories. 

At that moment, there is recollection, like flipping too fast through a photo album. They’d been good, they’d been so good. What had Ryan been afraid of?

With sloppy, hastily forged courage, Ryan raises a hand to knock on the groom’s chamber door despite the fact he’d not been invited. 

~

“Hey.”

Exhaustion curled around Ryan like smoky tendrils, attempting to whisk him away into sleep, but Shane’s voice, like a light, dispelled the shadows of sleepiness. Ryan turned to look at Shane, lying next to him, body long, covered by sheets, and face pressed into the pillow beneath his head. Ryan hums, blinking at Shane, smiling slowly. 

“I love you.” 

Like he’d touched fire itself, Ryan recoiled from the sentiment, turning to look at the ceiling. 

Silence fell, crooked and stifling, and Ryan felt the familiarity of anxiety bleed line acid in his stomach, climbing up his chest to press against his lungs. Sluggish seconds passed, and Ryan stared at nothing, his mind whirring, replaying three distinct words he didn’t recognize coming from Shane’s mouth. 

The sheets shift; Shane leans up on his forearms. He clears his throat.

“Usually,” Shane said, his voice calm, smooth, and very, very quiet, “people say something when they’re told someone loves them.” 

“I—what am I supposed to say?” Ryan asked, genuinely, sincerely, because he _didn’t_ know what to say to that, he didn’t know what to say to Shane. Despite not being dressed, tucked under sweat damp sheets, Ryan felt exposed, like his body had been turned inside out. 

Ryan turned to look at Shane’s face as it contorted, flickering through a multitude of emotions until he settled onto simple expressionless void. A mask; Ryan thought Shane looked familiar in his resistance to show emotion.

“What do you mean what are you supposed to say, Ryan? That you love me, too, would've been nice, I guess.” 

“I—” _I don’t, though_ , was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. They were just friends. They were _just friends_. “We’re just friends,” Ryan said.

“ _Friends_?” Shane’s laugh was emotionless, rippling over Ryan’s skin like barbed wire. “What—do you fuck all you friends like you fuck me?” 

“ _Shane_.” 

A cold shiver passed through Ryan, ice through his veins.

“Don’t—” Shane stared at him, and—

In all the time Ryan had known Shane, Ryan had never seen Shane angry. It was frightening as much as it was beautiful, Shane in silent _rage_ , looking devastatingly hurt, flushed red in his face and down his neck and Ryan couldn’t stand to look at him, only turned on his side and looked towards the window, where the blinds were still open. Through the cracks, the streetlamps loaned light to the droplets of rain streaming down the window glass. Ryan’s heart was beating so fast in his chest, his breathing tightened, his vision speckled—

“Ryan, look at me,” Shane said, and his voice; Ryan couldn’t remember a time it had ever sounded so defeated, so broken. 

“I can’t.” Ryan stood from the bed, reaching to twist the switch to Shane’s bedside lamp and letting sheets fall away, leaning into his nakedness as he searched his clothing. 

“What are you doing?” Shane stood, too, rounding his bed, finding Ryan on the other side. Any other time, Ryan would’ve looked up, searched for that sarcastic, lazy smile he’d always been so fond of. He knew he couldn’t, not here; his mind supplied an intrusive thought that his heart might break if he found anything else. 

“Preserving our friendship,” Ryan answered, finding his jeans and pulling them on. When Shane reached out to touch him, Ryan pulled away. 

“Don’t—don’t leave.”

Ryan looked up then, saw the brokenhearted emotion so blatant in the lines of Shane’s face, the furrow of his brow, the way his eyes were lined with tears. It was the most emotion Ryan had ever seen and Ryan couldn’t—he just _couldn’t_ deal with it. 

“I have to, I can’t—Shane. I don’t know what you were expecting, but this was supposed to be just—you know. Something we did sometimes.” Ryan plucked his shirt from the carpet, pulling it over his head. 

“ _Something we did sometimes_. Are you fucking _serious_ right now?” Shane spat, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—I’m sorry.” Ryan crossed the room—

“If you leave, Ryan. If you leave right now, there isn’t going to be a friendship to preserve.” 

When Ryan looked back, the emotion was gone; Shane’s features returned to their normal state; classically cool, reserved, unreadable. There weren’t any tears and the redness in Shane’s neck had dimmed.

“I’m serious, Ryan. We can talk about this right now. But if you leave, that’s—that’s it.”

And because Ryan hadn’t believed the weight of Shane’s words, hadn’t held them in his hands to see if he was strong enough to truly carry Shane’s sentiment, Ryan did leave.

~

What hurt worse was buying out Shane’s third of the company. 

That came a year later.

It was done through a third party, filling out and filing legal forms, Ryan and Steven signing their signatures on documents Ryan hadn’t read. 

He hadn’t seen Shane in weeks. Hadn’t known passing by him in the hallway at the office as Ryan was running out and Shane was walking in was the last time he’d get to.

~

At the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, alone with his own thoughts, Ryan had found the demons he’d refused to face, and unsurprisingly, it was a reflection of his own face. To blame his heartbreak on anyone but himself would be wrong, because it was his own fault he felt a pressured ache in his chest; it was constantly pressing down until he couldn’t breathe, until the world spun around him, ruthlessly throwing him this way and that, until his stomach was twisting and his breath came short and. 

_Panic_. 

Familiar hands find him, but they aren’t the hands he wants or needs. The hands he couldn’t admit he’d fallen in love with, too. 

Familiar arms had held him close, held him up, but they were void of the stability and warmth he’d grown to know over years of close proximity. 

Familiar eyes, bright blue, framed with worry told him everything would be okay, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Kelsey on the curb outside of the bar that he’d helped build a sandcastle, only to destroy it with his own hands. 

Everything had been fine when nothing was confessed, when nothing had admission, when nothing had to be spot—lit under garish light, forcing him to realize exactly what had been going on in car rides, over phone calls, underneath bed sheets. 

He hadn’t known what to call it all then, had forced himself to stick the love they’d cultivated into a box much too small, had twisted the mold of it in his hands with the force of his grip until all that was left were the gritty crumbles of what might have been had he been braver. 

~

The door opens as Ryan looks up at the familiar face of Shane’s brother. And of course, there’s surprise lit all over his face, but Scott isn’t as reserved with his emotions; he can see the hesitance, the annoyance, the anger—Ryan isn’t so naive that he’s thought Shane hadn’t relayed what happened. 

“I just need to talk to him. Just, like—a minute. Please?” Ryan says, before Scott can say anything. 

“It’s been a long time, Ryan,” Scott says to him, and Ryan nods, pressing his mouth into a thin line. 

“I know, but—” 

“I don’t think this is a good idea—” 

“Who are you talking to?” 

The sound of Shane’s voice upturns Ryan like a fragile tree in a hurricane. He feels thrown, tilted off his axis, dizzy from the feelings rushing inside of him. He’s _missed_ Shane.

The door opens wide, and he’s confronted with Shane. Shane stares at him, partly like he’s seen a ghost, partly like he might shove Ryan out of the doorway. Partly, if only in Ryan’s delusion-addled brain, like perhaps Ryan has a chance. 

God, he looks familiar, like four years hadn’t done anything. There are grey streaks in his hair, in his beard, crinkles by his eyes that look familiar. A stone sinks in his stomach knowing Ryan had no hand in putting them there. Shane’s expression is pinched, like there are a billion other places he’d rather be than looking at Ryan. He’s handsome as ever, still so beautiful in his anger.

He’s wearing a tux, only he doesn’t have his jacket on. His shirt is pressed, crisp, blindingly white, and contrasted greatly by the stark line of his black tie. 

“Hey, guys, we need to give them a quick second. Let’s go,” Scott says, voice of finality, and he shuffles past Ryan, and so do three other men Ryan hasn’t met. 

It dawns on him that Shane has cultivated a life without Ryan in it. He’s made friends and allies and has a career and it’s his _wedding_ day. 

Ryan steps into the room, and closes the door. When Ryan turns to Shane, they share the silence between them, looking each other right in the eye. Ryan stands up straight underneath the sorrowed pressure of Shane’s gaze. 

Shane’s posture is wilted, but there’s tension in his shoulders, tightness in his jaw. He shakes his head. “No—not today, Ryan. _Please_ don’t do this to me.” 

Stepping closer, Ryan reaches for Shane with shaking hands, but Shane steps back, stumbling over the leg of a chair. He catches himself, curses. 

Ryan drops his hands. “Just hear me out, Shane. I just—I need to try.” 

“I don’t want to hear you out,” Shane says, voice level but scathing. “I—everything has been so good, I’m—I spent so much time trying to get over you. You have _no idea_ what you did to me.” 

Shane’s hand tightens around the arm of the chair, knuckles the color of snow. There’s a memory in there, tucked away in a state he’s never been back to, looking for ghosts. The only ghosts Ryan could truly say exists were those of their old selves.

“I do. I do, because I did it to myself, too,” Ryan reasons. He runs his fingers through his hair as the air settles hot between them. Shane doesn’t look at him, and Ryan can’t stop staring at him, sorting through the differences, sorting through what used to be and what is. Sorting the differences of the Shane he knew and the one he knows now, looking up at Ryan with sharp, fire-lit eyes. 

“I had so many chances to ask you to stay, and now I’m asking, Shane. Really asking. I don’t want to just.” Ryan’s voice breaks and he takes a brave step forward, touching Shane’s forearm with trembling fingers. Shane doesn’t flinch away. “I need you,” he confesses. 

“That’s not fair Ryan.” Shane blinks rapidly, and raises a hand like he’s going to mess up his hair, but it’s like he remembers what’s happening, why he _can’t_ make a mess of himself. 

Ryan’s heart pounds and the ache of a migraine blossoms at the back of his head. 

“None of this is fair. _Life_ isn’t fair. You think I don’t think about that night and wish I’d—” 

“Stop. Just stop, Ryan.” Shane sighs, shaky. “Ryan.” 

“What?” 

“Ryan, I’m getting married in two hours. _Married._ You can’t think I was _waiting_ for you.” 

Ryan looks around the room. It’s small, barely enough space to fit five grown men, but there are clothes everywhere. There are vases of flowers, bags of chips on a corner table, a cracked open bottle of bourbon. The curtains are heavy, dark burgundy tied away on either side of the window. The sunlight leaves lines over the beige carpet. 

Sighing, Ryan shrugs. “I mean—no, of course I wasn’t. I mean—you…” he shakes his head. “You told me what you wanted and I told you it wasn’t what I wanted, and I lied because I wanted everything. I wanted _you_. But I just—I didn’t know that yet.” 

Shane rolls his eyes. “So? That’s _your_ problem, not mine.” Ryan curls his fingers around Shane’s forearm, sliding to grasp his wrist. 

“Shane, just—do you love me? Like really, really?” 

And like Shane’s been burned, he yanks his hand away. “Fuck you.” 

“I love you, Shane. That’s what I’m trying to say. I love you and I want you and I—I know I’m ruining everything, but I just can’t give up the chance of making things right. Because I’ve _missed_ you. You were a part of my life for so long—” 

“Ryan, it’s been years. Years. If you missed me that badly, you wouldn’t have let me leave. If you really missed me like you say you do, then we wouldn’t be standing here. You have to know that. It’s too late.” 

Shane runs his fingers through his hair then, messing it up, a complete picture of frazzled.

“It’s not, though. We can try again, we can make it work. I can’t just give up,” Ryan presses. 

“You did that already, remember. When I fucking told you I was in love with you and you told me you didn’t want me. Do you remember that part? When I told you if you fucking left, that was it. And _you left_! This isn’t my fault! I moved on and I’m tired, Ryan. I’m tired of all of this. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what they want.”

They’re getting too loud. Ryan glances at the door and then back at Shane who’s looking at him like he might hit him. Or kiss him. He exhales shakily, and Ryan can see the tears, just like that night. Ryan didn’t know what to expect from this reunion, how things would eventually shake out, but he didn’t expect to succumb to the burning pressure of his own sorrow, tears dripping down his cheeks as he inhales sharply. 

“I know now. I promise you, Shane, I know.” 

“You really hurt me, Ryan. What you did really fucking hurt,” Shane whispers. 

“I know, I know, I’m _sorry_ ,” Ryan whispers back. He takes a chance, a leap, touching his hands of Shane’s chest. The beat of his heart is reckless, irregular, but it’s very, very real. 

“A-and it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. It’s not the time.” 

“If now isn’t the time, and four years ago, when you were walking out of my life wasn’t the time, when is the fucking time, Shane? Let’s not pretend you didn’t leave me, too.” Ryan’s fingers grip Shane’s shirt and Shane takes his hands, holding them. 

“There _isn’t_ a time for us, Ryan. Just because you’re finally ready, doesn’t mean I’m going to drop my current life with someone I’m _going_ to marry. You didn’t give two fucks when I was asking you to stay. _You_ walked out first.”

“Shane, please, _please_ don’t marry her,” Ryan whispers. The tears in his eyes sit stubbornly on the edges of his waterlines, blurring his vision as he looked at Shane. They’re so close, Ryan can reach for him, so he does, almost pressing himself along the front of Shane’s body as he wraps his arms around Shane’s neck. Shane’s eyes don’t find his, Shane looks anywhere but Ryan’s face and Ryan knows the answer, knows what Shane has chosen, but he can’t leave. He just can’t. 

“You should go, Ryan,” Shane says, and Ryan flinches, recoils, when Shane’s voice cracks as he says his name. 

“Shane?” 

“You had to know that this is what was going to happen, I’m sorry.” 

Ryan drops his forehead to Shane’s chest, clutching him tighter. “Shane, for the love of God, please don’t do this.” 

With a deep breath, Shane tucks his fingers underneath Ryan’s chin, tilting his face back. He’s trembling, and Ryan rushes into him, lifting onto the tips of his toes just to meet Shane in a kiss so tender Ryan knows he won’t ever forget the touch of Shane’s lips. 

It’s a moment, a second, just a tear in reality that they steal, because there isn’t a reality where they get to have the alternate, where Ryan’s heart isn’t shattering like glass in his chest and Shane doesn’t go rigid when Ryan tries to pull him closer.

“I do love you,” Shane says, murmuring against his lips. “But I have—I can’t do this again. But.” 

“But?” Ryan says, looking up at Shane, searching his saddened eyes. “But what?”

“But maybe, if you’d come sooner, if it had even been yesterday, maybe I would have said yes. I would have left this, left all of it, just to be with you. But I’m getting married today.” 

Looking down, Ryan can feel the tears spill, and he removes himself from Shane’s arms, just a step back enough to be within arm’s reach. He brushes the palms of his hands down the front of his jacket, combs his fingers through his own hair. 

Though Shane looks like he’s been through a hurricane, he’s handsome as ever. 

“Yesterday, huh?” Ryan whispers. “But not today.” 

“Not today.”

Nodding, Ryan exhales, and touches his fingers to Shane’s tie, straightening the knot. “Do you remember the ferris wheel?” 

“In Santa Monica?” 

Ryan nods. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Okay.” Ryan clears his throat and brushes his hands over Shane’s shoulders, looking up to find Shane regarding him curiously. 

“Why?”

“Just making sure.” Ryan smiles, as shaky and broken as it is, and steps away towards the door, opening it. “Are you happy?”

Shane shrugs. “I would have been happy with you.” 

“But are you happy now?” Ryan asks.

Shane doesn’t answer him, and after just one more look at Shane, Ryan steps through the doorway and closes the door behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you promise not to yell at me, you can come visit me on [tumblr.](https://uneventfulhouses.tumblr.com/)


End file.
